


The ASM aRt of Tea ☕

by Ohata_kaki



Series: Cuppa ASMR [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: canon sadness and traumatic past events, hurt/(comfort?), nobody's in a good spot, set season 4, still gratuitous pining and ASMR description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohata_kaki/pseuds/Ohata_kaki
Summary: Jon has something he needs Martin to know. He thinks tea might be the language he needs to say it. (AKA Jon learns to make tea in Cuppa's ASMR classroom)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Cuppa ASMR [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010145
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68





	The ASM aRt of Tea ☕

**Author's Note:**

> Rating is upped for a curse word (GASP) and maybe some heavier themes of sadness? A sprinkling of trauma?   
> Set in season 4 so expect spoilers up to there. 
> 
> I'm as satisfied with how this fic turned out as Jon is about to be with his tea... but I had to be done with it. Please enjoy my offerings of mediocre hot beverage.

“First, and very importantly, you have to pick the right mug for your tea.”

Jon is staring vacantly into a cabinet of five office mugs. Four are black with identical curves and slip-cast edges. The last is an offensively bright shade of yellow, standing an inch or two taller than the others, just as its owner had. A smiley beams derisively on either side of the handle.

(A button is pressed. Shards of yellow and violent oranges and reds splinter in every direction. A smile that chipped long ago becomes fractured beyond repair.)

Jon grabs one of the black mugs shutting the cabinet before the bile can rise to his throat.  
  
“You want your mug to compliment your tea. Look at your vessel. What type of tea do you imagine it containing? Is it something hearty like a black tea? Or perhaps a lighter blend like a green or a white tea?” Martin muses, oblivious to the air of his audience. It makes Jon ache seeing Martin emote. Seeing Martin at all really.

Dutifully, Jon takes a look at the cup. It is simple, precise, utilitarian. He has no idea what type of tea that entails. But he thinks it is fitting of the message it will contain.

“Now, granted, I don’t do this for every cup that I make.” Martin concedes, “But it is in the back of my mind, particularly when I have the luxury of time to think about it.”  
  
Obviously Martin has not been spending his current wealth of solitude contemplating teas. Quite the opposite. The shelves have been stripped of his personal collection which used to creep out to the counter, the top of the fridge, the table. In his earlier days as Archivist, it was yet another excuse for Jon to gripe about his assistant. He would complain about Martin refusing to pick up these traces of himself--the remnants of his misplaced care. 

Martin comes back into camera view balancing a tray of three mugs which he places in front of himself. The leftmost cup is stout and sharply angled at the bottom. The lower half is not glazed and the ceramic is a wholesome looking brown color. Martin picks this cup up first, cradling it in one palm while the other taps at the lip.   
  
“For a cup like this, I would use an earthy tea to match the natural look of the mug.” He runs his fingernail against the lip where the glaze is thin. The sound sparkles as his nail pricks across the grainy clay underneath. “Today I’ve made some Genmaicha which is a green tea with roasted rice. He takes the cup in his hands and inhales deeply, eyes shutting. Then he exhales on a sigh, contentment plain on his face. “I wish you could smell this. It’s so rich and nutty. Reminds me of the woods after a long rain.” He places the cup down gingerly before continuing. “Other good choices for a mug like this would be Pu-erh or oolong... if it’s to your liking.” He adds with a shrug, looking away from the camera. 

Martin extracts a teaspoon with a wide mouth from somewhere off camera and stirs the tea for a moment. He lifts a spoonful, and lets it trickle back into the cup. Here Jon can better see the yellow-green shade of the liquid. One of the spoonfuls he brings close to the camera. The surface of the water gleams sweetly against the light of the room. 

Jon yearns. He thought he and Martin were headed somewhere before the Unknowing. Maybe that place could have had spoon-fed sips of wooded tea. Quiet moments of tinkling silverware and heat-steeped hands. Now Martin doesn’t post videos. He doesn’t make tea. He won’t talk to anyone (except Peter). Which is why Jon’s in the breakroom fumbling between his phone and the kitchen drawers.  
  
The second mug Martin’s queue is black and sturdy. It is all perpendicular edges without give and fit with a wide handle. “I would say this is more of a coffee mug to be honest,” Martin comments, “but it would also go well with a full flavored black tea. Something with cream and maybe sugar. Here I’ve made Earl Grey with extra milk.” The cup is steaming heavily as Martin brings it closer to the camera. “I think the milk gives the tea contrast from the darker mug. Martin's fingers trace the handle and sides of the ceramic.  
  
Jon finishes gathering all his potential materials. The pile consists of a package of tesco brand tea (‘original’ flavor, mostly untouched), a bowl of yellow packets of artificial sweetener, a box of a hundred stir straws, and a carton of coffee creamer (which, mercifully, is not expired). Jon opts for the creamer and one packet of tea, pushing the rest to the back of the counter.

The third mug is stout and pear shaped. Its glass is elegantly thin. The packet of tea (clearly hand-packed with a small string bowed around the opening) is sitting at the bottom of the cup. “For a delicate glass like this, I would pick an herbal tea or a white tea as to not overpower the form. If you have a high quality green tea this may be a good option as well. You can better admire the color of the brew in a clear or a white cup.”

Jon lingers in the soft consonants of Martin’s voice. The t’s and d’s and b’s that pop no louder than soap bubbles.   
  
“Now water quality plays a big part in the caliber of your tea, funny enough. You’re going to want to see if your region has hard water or soft water. For example, London—”  
  
Jon skips ahead a bit. He’s heard Martin’s statement on the horrors of hard water and limescale buildup before. And he’s frustrated he can’t find a single water bottle in the breakroom.  
  
“--areas where the water quality is poor, that you use bottled water. It will get rid of the issue of limescale and give your tea a better flavor. Alternatively, especially if you are using milk, you can let the tea sit for a moment. Then the limescale can be skimmed off the top of the cream more easily.”  
  
That will just have to do. The electric kettle is bubbling and steaming up a storm so Jon puts his tea bag in the mug and fills it with hot water up to the brim.  
  
“When your water is boiled you’re going to want to let it sit for a moment before pouring. Scalding water can burn tea leaves and give your tea a bitter flavor.”  
  
For fucks sake. At least he’s using trash tea so it probably won’t matter if he scalds it a little.  
  
“Nicely done. Now we want to let the tea steep for approximately three minutes and then we’ll remove the tea bag. If you’re anything like me, you’re likely to forget so I would suggest setting a timer.”  
  
Jon sets a timer on the microwave diligently for three minutes. At least this part he can get right.  
  
“Usually I would skip the wait in the video, but I thought it might be nice to give you some extra tingles while we steep. Is that alright?” He asks rhetorically.

Martin has an adorable hourglass timer at the ready. Jon imagines him buying it just for this purpose. Why else would you need a three minute timer? Did he used to bring it in to work? It’s certainly small enough to fit in a pocket. With the commitment to tea that Martin had, Jon wouldn’t be surprised.  
  
Martin flips the timer and grabs for an item out of view. It ends up being a wooden spatula that is familiar from other videos. He starts by tracing the spoon with his fingers, letting his nail catch a little on the sharp edge of its rectangular handle. Then he places it down on the counter and starts tapping randomly at spots. The timbre of the sound changes as different thickness of the spatula are played. Jon has brought the phone embarrassingly close to his face. He’s glad that nobody else is here so he can stand slack faced, entranced in Martin’s movements.  
  
After the three minutes are up Martin puts the spoon down. “Now you can remove your tea bag and add whatever extras you need. For the lavender tea I’ve made, I think I’ll add a touch of honey and a splash of milk.”  
  
Jon discards the tea packet, retrieves the creamer, and pours a bit in. The tea immediately starts to spill over the edge with how full he’s already poured the water. Without thinking, Jon crouches to the counter, sipping tea off the top until it is a reasonable height. The desires that spring forth from the action are juvenile. He should just start again, make this cup his own and make another for Martin. But Jon considers his mouth pressed to the heated lip of the mug. He thinks that it doesn’t make a lick of difference... but he still imagines that Martin might touch the same place. With his thumb or his mouth or his tongue. He thinks that would be the closest to Martin he’s been since he woke up in that hospital bed. 

Then he pours more creamer in, stirring until the tea is a favorable color. That might be generous… the tea is duller than he’d hoped. Bordering on light grey rather than caramel. But it does ‘contrast’ with the mug Jon thinks as he skims a congealed film of limescale from the top. It will have to be enough. 

***

Jon knocks at what used to be Elias’s office. It feels empty, but that could be a sign that Martin is inside. 

There is no reply. He knocks again, waits, hopes that Martin is there, ignoring him in the desire to be left alone. But when Jon opens the door he finds the office deserted. He extracts a coaster from under piles of research and places the tea centrally in front of the swivel chair. 

It doesn’t matter that Martin’s not here, he tells himself. He will have to come back. He will have to see that someone made and delivered him tea. Even if he chucks it in the planter, Martin will have to know that someone did this for him. That someone was thinking of him. That Jon will not let him be erased.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading the whole Cuppa series this is a part of, I know we've done a bit of a time jump. I do have plans for snippets that are between now and the last story. And I promise there will be less angst!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
